


Dearly Deviated

by DanyDamn



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Context, F/M, Female Reader, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Violence, POV Second Person, Past Relationship(s), Reader-Insert, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Sort Of, at least I hope, i promise you wont be disappointed, please just come and read it for yourself, sorry there arent a lot of tags i dont wanna spoil it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyDamn/pseuds/DanyDamn
Summary: In a relationship where most mutual interests have been experimented and discoveries explored to the point of satisfaction and boredom, how does one attempt to rekindle the flame between two individuals still holding onto each other but quickly drifting apart?





	1. Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> A little project I've been working on on the side. I just wanted a short but slow set fic between Jack and the reader, a pondersome piece. Hope you guys like it.

You didn’t want to let go of Handsome Jack, and you had the feeling he didn’t want to do the same, but there was nothing left between you to keep you together. Two years of spending time with each other at the approximation and implication of a newly married couple, you and the older executive found yourselves bereft of any more interest in the relationship you had. It all happened too fast, but that wasn’t saying the two of you didn’t know why. 

Sex was the true ties between you. It was a powerful chemistry, that of which lie unbroken by all forces of the world. You and Jack gave each other the best beneath the covers, keeping each other sane in the chaos of the universe despite both of you having lost all sanity years ago. Sex kept you together and kept life as lively as one would feel taking the existence of another in an attempt to feel something, anything. 

There were times when things were hard between the two of you, but those bore no consequence as your relationship wasn’t very orthodox, and problems had no ground. Traditionalism was never either of your styles, but one would suppose that came to be a good thing. Some times were easy, others strange, but somehow Jack never left you behind and you stayed with him too. 

That was until you, the both of you, came to the realization that you had run out. Out of interest, out of care, out of sexual exploitation. There wasn’t anything there anymore. 

“You know, cupcake, I already said you could stop breaking into my place months ago when I gave you the key.” 

Turning your head from the window that doubled as wall you swirled your glass of red liquid and downed it while the CEO of the Hyperion Manufacturing company approached, tossing his famous grey blazer on the couch to his left. 

“I forgot it at home.” You shrugged, picking up a dark green bottle on the shelf beside you and filling your glass back up with the same red fluid.

Jack walked up to you, taking the bottle into his own hands. “Still refuse to move in, eh. You know this is one of my most expensive bottles, right?”

You shrugged again. “With your paycheck you can probably replace it about five-hundred times, so I doubt it should matter. Besides, I don’t have any beer at home.” 

“So you decided to come up here and drink up all my good stuff at ten in the morning.”

“I had a stressful night. The raiding party was ambushed by a bunch of psycho pricks and about ninety percent of both groups died. I didn’t even head home after, I just came straight here. Got in about forty minutes ago.”

“Well that explains all the blood.” Jack stated, hands on his hips while he observed the splatters of liquid matching your drink leading from the penthouse elevator across the kitchen cabinets and to where you stood. “Not yours, I imagine.”

“Bulletproof, as always.” You replied, setting the glass down while you began to undo your red-stained coat and dropped it to the floor. Below you little robots skittered around your feet, following the trail of blood you’d left behind and cleaning the stains off expertly. “Anyways I’m gonna go and take a shower, I smell like Skag shit.” 

Jack watched you head across the kitchen on your way to the bathroom, picking up the glass you’d abandoned and taking a gulp from it. “Want me to join you.”

“Don’t bother.”

In the months that followed the conclusion of what your relationship was, you and your older lover made some attempts at relighting the flame you once had. The key he gave to you was one of those attempts, a nod towards the unspoken option of making the strange relationship of yours into something real, something more traditional. The offer of you moving in was made in the midst, but nobody took action. Really, it was all up to you, but you didn’t see the point. 

Other brainstorms came to light, but nothing got past the considering stage. You suggested running away, Jack thought a baby might do the trick. Both propositions were shot down too quickly due to your lifestyles, too much to leave behind and too many responsibilities in the way. Not to mention personal preferences, as Jack didn’t want to leave his lavish job behind and you didn’t want the burden of raising a baby whose sole existence would be to save a relationship not worth saving. Babies were terrible, what they entailed was terrible, so in short: it was a terrible idea. But you didn’t tell him that. Not that he couldn’t handle it, no, he was actually trying. You just figured it was unnecessary to start a fight over something so inconsequential. 

By itself, the fraternization between you was the weirdest situation you had ever found yourself in. To be with the most ruthless authority in the system was one thing, but to be sexually active with him only to find yourself holding onto the scraps of a liaison devoid of emotion was another. You stopped enjoying sex, there was nothing left. So how could the two of you possibly be staying together like this?

Well. If you could even call it staying together. At the rate you were going, your relation to each other would reduce into nothing more than a fleeting acquaintance. 

Despite your suggestion to void being joined in the shower, once you stepped into the steaming room with rushing hot water ready to clean the stains of blood from your skin you heard the door open. The floor ran red when you sighed, already scrubbing yourself off as a naked Handsome Jack stepped inside with you. 

“I told you not to bother.”

“What, a man can’t take a shower with his girl?”

“Only if the man is in desperate need of one, sure, but we both know that’s not why you’re here.” 

You turned away from him, rubbing a dried patch from your shoulder as you stood beneath the steady stream of water. Behind, you could hear the faint click of a soap bottle opening, soon being followed by a set of fingers threading through your matted hair and making your spine tingle as they massaged your scalp. 

The both of you stood in silence in the water, you washing your skin while he washed your hair. It was a rare moment of stillness between you, ne’er a sense of awkwardness or questionable intention to your actions. If anything, it was simply a strange, alien feeling. You never acted as a couple, your togetherness as inconsistent as your care for each other, which in itself was non-existent, but with the downfall of the one thing that held you together, new developments came to light. Those developments came in the form of a pseudo-romantic behavior meant as a crutch to your lack of sexual energy.

If only that did anything for your situation. 

It didn’t take long before your shared efforts resulted in all the blood being cleaned of your outer shell and the water finally running clear again. Jack’s hands came to your shoulders, thumbs gently kneading your skin as they came down your arms and you felt his lips at the back of your neck. 

“Jack, why are we doing this.” You ask, unresponsive to his advances until he paused and turned you to face him, still holding your arms. You looked up at him, expressionless while he held a similar demeanor. 

“I thought we were working together to figure that out and fix it, cupcake.” 

“I thought so too, but what’s the point? We lost the appeal. Why don’t we just quit and go our separate ways.”

A corner of his lips tugged down, and you knew he noticed how your statement leaned to a side of a suggestion rather than an implied hypothetical question. 

“Hell if I know.” He replied simply, but you had a feeling he wanted to say more. 

You sighed, lowering your head and leaning forward, your forehead against his throat, tucked beneath his chin.

“What happened to us, Jack? We used to go at it like dogs. We used to drink until we forgot and do it again. It was so fun and so good. Now we’re trying to grab on to something that probably doesn’t exist. It all seems pointless.” 

You could feel his hand at the back of your head, a gesture of comfort as he stroked your wet hair. He said nothing, he never did. For Jack to be acting this way was uncharacteristic enough as it was, to talk about it would force him into being something he wasn’t entirely. Even you didn’t want that, so you didn’t push. But you liked it, just standing there and being held by this man that was putting almost every aspect of your life into question. 

In any case, you doubted he even had an answer for you. As mentioned, it wasn’t like Handsome Jack to have or talk about these kinds of—unfamiliar feelings. If he had them, it was likely he had trouble knowing exactly what they were. If anything, he was struggling with them. It just wasn’t something a guy like him could have on a regular basis, so you understood when he offered no answer nor a hint of an explanation. It wasn’t like you had any idea, so why would he?

Still, as long as he was trying, maybe you should have been, too. 

Lifting your arms, your fingers linked at the back of his neck and you looked up at him. At the same time he lowered to the point that the two of you met with a kiss. Rough hands held your bodies together, calloused fingers latched against the wet skin of your waist while the two of you moved in response to each other’s advances. Jack pushed forward, pinning you to a tiled wall as you hooked your leg over his waist where you could feel the physical embodiment of his masculinity pressed against you.

If this had been in any other time of your two-year endeavor, you’d be furiously working into oblivion. The thrusting would be exciting and the orgasm would be explosive. Here, however, things had taken a different turn, one of confused attempt and mildly frustrated air. 

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t find you attractive, no, he still thought you were quite the knockout, but it was becoming an increasing problem that he just couldn’t get excited as he used to. It had nothing to do with his age, either, being as older as he was had no effect on his bodily functions, times from before where you’d watch him spring up like a Varkid when he got excited being a testament to that. When it first happened the two of you could never figure out what the problem was and to this day you still couldn’t. It was just unfortunate when it took place.

And lo and behold. 

Stepping out of the shower, you left a lonesome Handsome Jack standing beneath the running water while you clothed yourself with a fresh set of threads the bots had taken out for you. Your coat was nowhere to be found, but you figured it was being washed due to its state of filth, and made a note to retrieve it later. Making your way back to the kitchen, you took the abandoned half-empty bottle from the counter and headed to the elevator. 

You couldn’t blame Jack, not any more than you could blame yourself. You no longer excited him and he no longer excited you. It was mutual, and that was the problem, there just wasn’t any more spark left to go on. The both of you understood this, and though you made many attempts to fix it, it just wasn’t happening, no matter how much you tried. 

Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be. How it lasted even this long was a surprise in itself, but at this point it was obvious that the unity of you and Handsome Jack wasn’t kismet. That much was clear.

When you turned around to press the button that would take you to ground level and away from this choking atmosphere, Jack was standing before the doors, expressionless.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Catch you later.”

And then the doors closed and you took a drink.


	2. Deliberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend some time with your best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a longer chapter with more dialogue and even more deep thought

Despite being the first to make it clear that your intentions for fixing the problem had a lack of conviction, you still weren’t willing to give up on it all so quickly. At this point there was far too much between you and Handsome Jack to let it all slip away as if none of it ever happened. You just had to think harder. 

But—what could you do? What could you possibly do to bring back that which you had so disastrously lost? 

That question haunted you since the shower, since you came home to your shitty apartment in psycho country and finished Jack’s bottle and sat on your couch contemplatively. Granted, it had haunted you ever since the problems first began, back when the efforts between the two of you was void of satisfactory payoff. But with an increasing sense of dread on the situation in the last few weeks, so came the conviction to deep thinking. You weren’t much of a brainstormer, but even a raider like you had your moments, and it was those moments that you were counting on to help you out.

The thoughts that ran through your head, however, were fleeting and mostly shot down due to either an absurd nature or a stupid basis for damage control. This of course made you doubt the success of your search for a solution, but you just weren’t ready to give up yet. 

There had to be something, _something_ , that could make everything normal again, bring back what made you and Jack so good together.

You didn’t actually know why you wanted it so badly, but knew you weren’t alone in that need, so you willed yourself to keep at it. If Handsome Jack, a ruthless dictator that never spared a glance to those he deemed undeserving ne’er a sliver of mercy towards the ones that may or may not have wronged him, was willing to try and make things work, who was to say you shouldn’t have been doing the same?

Unfortunately, however, after already spending months with Jack on this specific topic, there was only so much you could think of that the two of you hadn’t already thought of, and at the time it was with two shared heads. How exactly you were supposed to figure it out on your own was, frankly, beyond you.

But then again, you didn’t have to go about it on your own. It was just that, temporarily, your ambitions had purposefully taken the turn of the lonesome wolf to see if you had what it took to find salvation worth your effort, but that was mainly because of an odd devotion to Handsome Jack that drove you to find a way (of said salvation) in a hopeful attempt at catching him off-guard. It was possible, albeit slightly naïve to think, that if you found just the right option, startling him with it would force that famous, raw power of his to peak and the two of you would find resolution in the relationship once more. Of course, even though you lacked resolution in the beginning due to the strange nature of your unity, it only went on to later prove that even the most uncanny cases could be redeemed. Somehow it came to be one of those cases, and it was a mild hope that it could once again be that.

Shaking your head, a memory passed through your thoughts where you and Jack had a hypothetical conversation that led you to believe there was a possibility things could be different, but whether for good or for worse you couldn’t tell at the time. Presently, however, you realized that that little chat about your future had come to unexpected reconsideration, but only to make you come to the terms that it wasn’t, in fact, for good.

Because marriage wasn’t an option. No way in fucking hell. 

You and Jack barely ever hopped the train of an orthodox affair as it was, to throw such a dastardly suggestion into the mix, much less to act on it, wouldn’t make any sense. You didn’t know how it even came into the conversation in the first place, that day you and Jack slept together for one of the first times in the penthouse, but you quickly decided that was the stupidest thing you’d ever heard. And for some reason it had the troubling nature of butting into your head every now and again and to be honest it was really pissing you off. 

Neither you nor Jack were the marriageable type, to even think such a thing was impossible, yet somehow it was briefly in consideration.

Of course, only to a point, naturally. After realizing that the conversation had taken a turn to a fact that was essentially idiotic, the two of you turned over and never spoke of it again. 

So marriage? Not even. 

As you came to that conclusion for the fifth time in a week, unsettled by how you kept coming back to it, there was a quick knock at your door and the rusted slab of tin swiveled open to reveal a woman with neon yellow hair and a pack of bottles held loosely betwixt fish-netted fingers.

“Sweetpea, ya gotta stop mopin’ around like that or I’ll just have to stop hangin’ out wit’chya. There’s only so much I can take before you’re harshin’ on my vibes.”

Despite what she said, the female clad in bright colors sauntered into your home and plopped herself down beside you. Her body said ‘party’ but her eyes said ‘sleep’, a worn-down expression over her sharp features as she popped open one of the bottles in the pack and practically downed it. 

“Sorry Sprig, forgot you were coming over. Bad day?” You ask, righting yourself and taking an offering of one of the bottles. 

She made an exasperate expression. “Like ya won’t believe! The boys were so rowdy today, like they were possessed or somethin’. Almost all of them were tryin’ to hump the girls so hard you’d think they didn’t know that dancers don’t do that sort of thing! Even when they do!” 

You let a short laugh through your nose as you took a drink. “Switch places with me?”

The woman dubbed Sprig rolled her eyes at you. “Now don’t go wishin’ for that kind of stuff.” She commanded, waggling a finger. “I know you an’ Jack been runnin’ into some problems under the covers, but trust me, I’d rather have that handsome hunk of a mayun leavin’ me unsatisfied than some rando horndogs thinkin’ he’s gettin’ lucky just cuz he’s throwin’ cash my way and wavin’ around a stiff one.”

You had to laugh at her mannerisms. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m just giving you a hard time. Which upset you this time, Ringle or Dingle?”

As the woman beside you, obviously younger than you though not by much, went into a rant about how the raider twins always seemed to be on her case, you found yourself considering how you’d ever made such a toughened, impetuous and oddly charismatic type of friend. 

You remembered the day you met, Spriggon a strong-headed young woman tied up in some drama with a psycho gang, and you a freshly recruited raider on your first gig. The interactions in the beginning were lukewarm at best, a damsel in distress refusing to think she was in distress when in fact it was worse than that, trying to resolve a situation that was obviously about to end in a body count. 

Due to an initial want for the cliché manner of “protecting the innocent,” your attempts at keeping this individual from harm were met with violent protest and ungrateful backlash, almost causing you to give up on the whole matter altogether and just let her die. Something, of course, stopped you, and it was only after some time of battle, many deaths and gallons of blood coating the both of you, that the younger woman realized you had quite literally saved her life. Why you’d actually done so, after all the repercussions and her resistance, was beyond you, but in the end you found yourself thankful for your choices. 

Not that Sprig so easily let herself be indebted to you for such an event, no, she was actually still quite resentful for what you’d done. After some time, however, once you took her somewhere she could recover of her wounds and think about her choices in life, the two of you slowly came together and embarked on a life-long friendship that was never again met with any means of antagonism, and formed the strong bond that you had today. Of course, she never did concede to calling you her hero. To this day she insists that she had things under control. Not that you ever minded. At the time you, yourself, weren’t sure of what exactly you did, you were just grateful it worked out in the end. 

And then, as the two of you became older, your paths in life changed.

For you, it took some time, but with some first handed experience of the negative effects it had on you, you’d dropped the mannerisms of the grossly pretentious “protector of innocence” and instead became an individual no longer affected by anybody you didn’t already know or care for. Sprig was your first and only case in that department, essentially being the one who took you away from it as it was.

And when it came to her, she had changed the most.

Before being literally given a second chance at life, Spriggon had a role in that psycho gang she was involved with, the likes of which she never confided within you. Not that you ever pushed. You knew exactly why a person in her situation wouldn’t want to talk about it. Anything that happened in a gang like hers specifically wasn’t exactly content for any means of polite conversation. In any case, once you and she became friends, she’d realized the error of her ways and changed to a different course. 

After some search and some more consideration of how she could put her skills to good use (though you never really were told of these so-called “skills” of hers), Spriggon became a dancer at a popular showgirls establishment in some run-down town east of where you lived. She worked nearly every day, sometimes long nights and other times early mornings, finding the work more respectable and far more pleasing than her previous occupation in the gang. She never could be the most favorite of the set of women she was presented with, but had quite the grounds when it came to the men that visited. She did, however, somehow manage to make a rival, an older, quite annoying individual who obnoxiously and ostentatiously called herself Stargazer. 

And oh, how Sprig hated her so. 

Stargazer always seemed to bring in a populace of patrons far grander than her younger counterpart, flaunting herself around a lot less respectively than she should have been and burying your friend’s nose in it in an unnecessary venture to seem better than her. But despite all that, Spriggon liked to think that she brought in the wealthier, more dignified of the bunch. Older, fatter and more loaded than her rival’s, she always seemed to be payed better and was revered as a more pleasant dancer. This, of course, pissed Stargazer off to no end, which only continued to fuel the antagonism. 

And if she hadn’t caused you enough trouble already when you two were younger, it was due to the commotion and publicity of that rivalry that you liked to credit Sprig for the fact of how you and Handsome Jack even met in the first place, essentially causing this whirlwind of a situation you’d found yourself in. 

Jack liked drama, and he liked girls. So what does a dominantly self-indulgent man do when he finds out that a very popular stripping establishment was having a rivalry between two beloved attractions?

Well he visits it, of course.

The day he came to see one particular show, you had been present in support of your friend, having been quite the longtime colleague of the neon-dressed dancer as it was and therefore an extension of her hate to Stargazer, making you want nothing more than to blow all the patrons away with your love and support. You’d just returned from a particularly successful raid and were well stocked up in bills deceiving enough to pass yourself off as some kind of wealthy confidant, using that deception to sway the clients and customers that your friend was, in fact, the superior attraction. 

You’d never noticed when Jack walked in, much less than anybody else, too focused on throwing your cash at the younger female and vocally addressing your support to really care. When people did start to notice, you still only continued to unabashedly cry at Sprig and practically strangled the patrons around you in excitement. Only when the females before you stopped dancing in a sense of awe and shock did you turn your head to notice the CEO of Hyperion sitting casually beside you with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. 

You didn’t quite remember how the rest of that evening went, mostly due to the alcohol you’d consumed and the undying love you presented to Sprig clouding your memory as well as your ability to recall it, but by the end of the night the only thing you were sure of was that Jack was coming inside you at the back of some dressing room in that same building. 

The next morning you’d awoken on Helios, exactly which part of it you couldn’t tell, but once you were given access to go back home an astonished Sprig was there to meet you with news of the rivalry and questions regarding your night, as you had quite literally disappeared well into the performance.

So, essentially, she had been the cause of all this. 

“And Phil? He was the only good thing about tonight, tippin’ left and right like the rich buffoon he always pretends to be. It’s his cash that I got this booze with.” 

At the mention of the bottles in your hands the both of you took a drink, but you more distractedly so. 

Spriggon snapped her fingers in front of your eyes a couple of times. “Sweetpea, ya listenin’?”

You blinked, squeezing your eyes and shaking your head. “Oh—sorry Sprig, I didn’t mean to daze off, there, what were you saying?”

“It’s about ole mask-face again, ain’t it.” She asked, knowing exactly what it was that was throwing you off, having been along with you for the entirety of your and Handsome Jack’s strange relationship, therefore well versed in the problems that frequented it.

You gave her a troubled tight lip. “Sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I know I shouldn’t be goin’ on about my menial problems when ya got bigger affairs on mind. Tell me what’s botherin’ you.” 

You had to sigh, taking another drink. You hated having to unload your troubles on her like this, but other than Jack she was the only thing that could provide comfort and even help.

“More like what _isn’t_ bothering me. Things have only been getting worse. Today Jack and I tried again but it just wasn’t happening.” 

“Awe, was his little brother being too shy?”

Despite your heavy feelings you had to smile at your friend’s attempt at cheering you up. “Something like that. It seems to happen all the time now. We haven’t had proper sex in weeks. I just don’t know what to do anymore. He’s trying, and I’m trying, but it just isn’t working.” 

“You guys sound like an elderly married couple with erectile dysfunction problems.” Spriggon said with something short of a cackle, only calming down when you shot her a look. She shrugged. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the ones that’re makin’ it seem like it. If it weren’t for you two bein’ the mix that’s exactly what you guys woulda looked like.”

You sighed. She was right. If it weren’t for the fact that he was the most powerful dictator in the universe and you a cutthroat resident murderer of Pandora, the two of you would have seemed as if an aged, devoted, married couple with sex problems. But you weren’t old, and you weren’t married, and the sex problems rang farther than that.

With another sigh you downed the drink and flung the empty bottle at a wall, hearing a satisfying shatter before you lay back exasperatedly on your couch. Sprig followed suit, though less dramatically.

“All I want in life is to keep having amazing sex with this guy without having to deal with all the problems that go with it and the implications that come with what we even have to fix it. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Apparently. But, ya know…” Sprig said with a pause. “Maybe your guys’ problem is due to bein’ tired of the same shit all the time. Like… ya can’t stand the same old routine anymore.”

You made a face. “What do you mean, Jack and I did all sorts of crap. We’ve fucked everywhere, we’ve explored a great many kinks, we’ve experimented on a hell of a lot of shit, what part of that is a same, old routine?”

Sprig shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Even through all that, every time I hear ‘bout what the two of you do, there’s always one thing that stays the same.” 

“And what’s that.”

“Okay, when the two of you had that spankin’ phase, who was the one bein’ spanked?” 

“It wasn’t a phase, we still do—”

“—Just answer the question, sweetpea.”

You sighed. “Me.”

“Alright, and when ya guys tried the daddy kink, who was bein’ referred to in that creepy ‘darlin’ and ‘princess’ way?”

Another sigh. “Meee.” 

“And which one a’ ya’ll was tied up and collared durin’ that freaky master/slave ordeal?”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”

“My point is, this entire time, Jack’s been the dominant one.” 

Something sudden passed through your eyes, and Sprig began to smile as you finally caught onto her drift. 

Your brows lowered, and you found yourself biting on both your lips in consideration. “What… did you have in mind?”

A pause. “…Ya ever hear of role-reversal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is relatively small, but I hope its content can make up for that fact. I worked really hard on it, hoping you guys are liking it so far. Get ready for actual shit going down in the following chapter


	3. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the real fun finally begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning this chapter contains some things that I don't usually write. Expect themes where Jack isn't exactly the guy in control anymore...
> 
> Enjoy this monster of a chapter that's pretty much 80% drawn out porn
> 
> If you wanna skip just all the thinking shit and get straight to it(that's something I would wanna do, so I'm assuming some of you would want that too), just scroll down to where there's a big break between the text, you'll find it there, mostly.

If it weren’t for the supremely platonic nature of your friendship, you could have kissed Sprig and likely done more to her when she essentially single-handedly gave you a practically life-saving chance to fix your problems with Handsome Jack. You could have showed her the world then and there.

But, alas, you were just friends, and you just didn’t see her in that way. You did, once, back when the two of you first began as colleagues, but things had since changed. She had herself a guy and you had Jack, so the thanks you offered for her help only went as far as a hug and some babbling on about her being a genius.

Which, really, she was. Months and months of searching for an answer on your end coming to a stop after only about five minutes of chatting with the neon dancer. A seemingly eternal inner turmoil set to rest at the utterance of a single set of words:

Role-reversal. 

It was fucking brilliant. At first, however, upon hearing the idea and considering what it implied, you weren’t very sure about it. Switch roles? Change the dynamic between the two of you? It seemed impossible! Handsome Jack was nothing if not a wholly dominant figure, especially in the bedroom, and saying, thinking, even making it otherwise would not feel right.

But then again, that wasn’t saying it hadn’t before come to something like that, that Jack never rescinded his reigns to you. With the amount of experimenting that you tried on one another, all that testing and trying, there was bound to be something along those lines that you guys took upon yourselves to make do. Still, the things that your long-time friend was describing—that definitely wasn’t something neither you nor Handsome Jack ever considered. 

And somehow that made it seem… right.

So, even with your initial inhibitions, after spending some time alone following your little get together with Sprig and she fell asleep drunk on your couch, you started to seriously consider it. 

What if? What if it was exactly what you needed?

What if all you needed was to just change the dynamic of your sex and therefore making things return to normal? Was that even possible? You really couldn’t say, let alone imagine, but at this point you were willing to try just about anything.

But could it be that simple? How would you even pull something like that off? Despite being the leader to no ends as the raider that you were, in the bedroom you were something almost entirely different. Jack had a very overpowering personality, and it was that that the two of you worked so well with each other, because you fell into the two most important roles of sex: the submissive one and the dominant one.

Of course, while it wasn’t a language spoken by everyone who ever had sex as some had their own roles in mind, it was certainly commonplace among couples to fall into such a state of mind once the blood starts rushing somewhere else, a natural behavior. You and Jack weren’t any different, which boiled things down to the simple fact that when the sexy time began, you were the submissive one, and he was the dominant. You never thought that to be a bad thing, and you still didn’t, you just never figured it to be an aspect you’d ever have to put into question.

Which meant… maybe a switch would do something.

So after spending all that time with a dilemma that haunted you to no ends, you were faced with another: how to get Handsome Jack to follow along because suddenly you were far more than willing to give this thing a try. All you needed now was to convince him to do it too. Surely the man who suggesting that having a baby could save a physically-oriented relationship would be on board to try something vastly new and different from what the two of you were used to, right?

And yet—you didn’t feel like it would. He was naturally dominant. He just wasn’t the type to be held at the mercy of others. 

You sighed, closing the door of your apartment to leave a snoring Sprig on your couch. Today was her day off and you weren’t much keen on waking her for no reason. In any case, you needed some time to think. And to plan. 

In your hand was a bag, a big bag, filled with things that you and Spriggon put together the night before in a drunken stupor. While at the time it had been for joke, once you looked upon its contents in the morning you began to seriously consider their purpose. Once you’d realized the potential of their use, you set a course for the penthouse, because if there was ever a time to do this, it was now. 

Among the contents of the bag had been an assortment of random things that, if looked into by a person unaware of your situation and the new developments that came with it, would have seemed just that—an assortment of random things. To you, however, the lengths of wire and rope, the chains, the strips of clothing and straps of leather meant a whole other world of things. If anything, it looked more like a stock of various lengths of things used for repairing stuff. And those were the things on top of the pile. It was what lay below that you didn’t exactly want to think about, let alone let other people see. 

Once you actual got to the penthouse though, despite all the planning you and Spriggon had done, you began to feel nervous. 

Which was… strange. You never got nervous, not when you raided, not when you killed, not even when you first met Jack under all the things you knew about him. Why you were feeling it now was beyond you, but you had to figure it was due to what you were about to do. And in any case, thinking it was just your nerves was an instinct. You actually couldn’t figure it if it was that, or something akin to excitement. 

This time, when asked for access, you used the key that was given to you. Normally, you could just hack the system and make your way up no problem, but this had a different purpose. Whenever you would break into his place, Jack always showed up about a half hour later, knowing exactly who it was and coming along because it was usually the only time he got to see you. But if you used the key, the alarms wouldn’t trigger, and he wouldn’t be alerted, which gave you the time you needed to do what you were going to do before you made the decision of drawing him here, yourself. 

Oh, this was going to be fun. 

 

 

“Shit—goddamn—fuckin’ hell.” Came the voice that belonged to a tycoon of the handsome variety into the emptiness. 

Handsome Jack, upon opening his eyes to the dim lighting of a room he just couldn’t identify at that moment, felt something akin to a splitting headache keeping his thoughts from holding focus. When he moved to place his head into his hands, something human nature always seemed to urge a person to do when things like this happened, realized he couldn’t actually move. 

It wasn’t even an immobility due to what was going in his head, no, he quite literally did not have the ability to move, what with the way his arms and legs were tied down to what seemed like a bed.

Still in a groggy state, it took him a few minutes to realize the entirety of the situation, that he was, in fact, held down by what felt like straps over his wrists and ankles, spreading his limbs to each corner of the bed he lie on, practically exposed if it weren’t for the clothes he wore. And once he came to that conclusion, began to struggle against the binds.

“What the fuck—what’s going on here.” 

Some babbling came through his speech as he searched his memories to figure out what exactly he had gotten himself into. It took him several moments, but once he turned his head to look at the bind on his right hand, caught the image of himself in the mirror on the opposite wall. A giant mirror, one that was practically the wall itself. He knew that mirror. The distinct gold border frayed in blocky patterns in the corners was something he’d chosen specifically when he had it installed. This was his bedroom, which meant he was in his penthouse. 

Then it started to come back to him, albeit vaguely. 

He remembered the alarm triggered back at his office, prompting him to come and check the reason for it, even though he already knew exactly what it was. He remembered stepping out of the elevator—a flowery aroma and the room was dim. There was… alcohol involved, yes, the same thing he drank yesterday. And then—someone was there with him… right? 

Then it came to him, the entire memory, from when he stepped into the living room, noticing the candles and the drinks, seeing a familiar face with promising prospects of the evening, all the way to the point when he felt a needle jabbed into his neck and he blacked out. 

You. You were the cause for all this.

Coming to that conclusion, the implication of your deeds eased his mind a little, though not by much considering it didn’t actually change the fact that he was still tied down. Despite now knowing who put him into this dilemma his thoughts ran a course that promised nothing short of supposed unpleasantness. 

_Clack, clack, clack._

The sound of heals snapping across the marbled floor were easy to identify, perhaps too easily, as if the wearer purposefully made the sound to alert the victim they were approaching. It wouldn’t have mattered though, as Jack had already figured out who it was that had done this. 

When the door to the bedroom opened, he could only see so much, barely holding his head up to peer at the figure silhouetted against the frame. There they stood, an image of crisp, distinct lines as if no clothing disrupted the shape of their body. When the door closed again, it took Jack a few seconds to blink into adjustment before that same figure approached the bed, and there you stood with a hand on your hip and a grin beyond wickedness plastered upon painted lips. 

“Cupcake,” Handsome Jack greeted with a surprisingly cheery lilt to his voice, though it wasn’t hard to recognize the mild uneasiness in his demeanor. “Nice to know I’m not about to be murdered. Unless I am, which means I should probably be more worried, but I’m just gonna guess you’re not gonna go that far. Still, I’m a little concerned. Mind telling daddy what you’re up to?” 

The deep red color of your lips wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed about you. His assumption at the exclusion of clothing had been right, none of the regular raiding gear you’d normally wear donned on your body. In place of it was something far more appealing, much more snug and twice as expensive. You were clothed in a delicate, swirly lingerie set, something Jack had bought for you a long time ago. In bodysuit shape it covered most of you, with long sheer sleeves, and chiffon stocking covering your limbs. It was made entirely of black, see-through, lacey material, making obvious some appealing parts of your body that were meant to be ogled at when the outfit was worn. 

The lingerie itself was the only thing he recognized, as there seemed to have been some modifications made to the set. Snugly fitted around your waist was a shiny, onyx corset, akin to leather and vertically bound in a crisscross type fashion, a chain tied to it between your breasts and stretching up to your collar where it was linked to a thick choker wrapped around your neck. A pair of equally black and shiny boots made entirely of straps stretched along your legs down to heels that were impossibly tall. From your elbows down to your fingers your hands were donned with a pair of gloves, the same material as the corset and boots, where between your digits you held something long, thin and unidentifiable. 

The last thing he’d come to notice once Jack’s eyes were finally able to fully adjust to the dim lighting of the room was the entirety of your face, where you wore color around your eyes and framed them with an inky, black mask. Your hair had been let loose, cascading on either side of your head and over your shoulders. 

“Sorry, _cupcake_.” Came your voice, nearly as unrecognizable as you were. “But _mommy_ doesn’t want to spoil the surprise.” 

Despite not being very content in the situation that he was in, Handsome Jack couldn’t deny the hardness he began to feel between his legs as a collective result of what was happening. It was safe to say he was as aroused as he was terrified at this point. Not that he would ever admit to the latter, but again—he couldn’t deny it. 

He visibly gulped. “Okay, well—off to a good start I guess. Am I actually gonna die or are you just fuckin’ with me right now?”

Without a word your smile dropped a little and you moved to climb on top of him, straddling his legs just short of where you could see the tent he began to sport. You knew exactly what he was feeling right then and you certainly weren’t going to give him the satisfaction he was hoping for.

Jack’s eyes roamed all down your body, his gaze curious and possibly concerned at the way you didn’t exactly mount him in the conventional sense. If anything there was a hint of disappointment in those heterochromatic orbs of his, and you couldn’t shake a growing sense of glee that this was working. Not that you wanted to, of course, you found yourself already enjoying what was going on. 

Leaning forward you placed a hand on one side of his chest, hovering just above him while the other hand ran along his abdomen in a feathery light touch.

“Seriously, pumpkin, ya gotta say something, I’m getting mixed signals here.” 

“Shush.” You commanded as your gloved hand came up to the outline of his jaw and urged his mouth to close. “I told you, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” 

As you finished your sentence your fingers went down to the clasps of his vest, flipping each one painfully slowly until you were able to push it back so just his yellow Hyperion shirt remained. 

“Surprises are meant to be good things and I’m not sure if I’m seeing this as a good thing.” 

Your eyes flickered back up to his, an anger evident in your gaze. “I said _shush_!” You instructed in a harsh whisper, the hand returning to take his jaw and squeeze it shut, almost painfully, the leather of your gloves squeaking. Jack’s eyes had taken an air of disapprove but he finally complied after a moment of you forcing him to be quiet. “You can talk when I say you can talk. Understand?”

After a reluctant nod, a smile returned to your crimson lips. 

“Good. Glad to see you’re capable of obeying. I’d hate to do anything bad to you just because you couldn’t take an order.” 

Oh, you liked this. You liked this very much. The looks Handsome Jack gave you, foreign, uncharacteristic feelings evident in his gaze was just so delicious you felt like you were becoming addicted. Not to mention the power you felt. By now, whether this was actually going to save your relationship with the tycoon or not, you were already making plans to try it some more in the future, Handsome Jack or not.

That ugly yellow shirt of his started to come up his chest with some gentle urging by your hand, revealing the tanned, chiseled torso beneath it. With that you sat upright again, picking up the abandoned unidentified item you had earlier from beside the body beneath you, a long black rod with a loop of leather at the end of it. The loop end came into contact with his skin, trailing along his muscles to his chest where you circled a nipple. Jack gave you a look you weren’t sure of, but with a _snap_ of the leather against his nipple that changed, and you grinned maliciously at his jerking reaction.

When he looked like he wanted to say something again you only pressed the loop against his lips. “Ah-ah-ah, I didn’t give you permission to talk, did I, kitten. You better obey, or I’m gonna be forced to use something else to keep you quiet.” 

He seemed to clam up again, reluctantly as always, and once more you found yourself in immense pleasure at the thought of what you were doing to him. Moving the rod down you let the leather drag down his chest again, all the way to the buckle of his pants that seemed about ready to burst with the push of his hardening cock. You smiled at that, letting the loop circle the bulge lightly. 

“My, my cupcake, despite your resistance, you’re as hard as a rock.” 

Leather was then replaced with leather, your gloved hand now just faintly touching the seam of his pants, tracing some random pattern into the fabric that was pushed out like a pop-up book. Jack seemed to react to the touch, and you could tell by the very faint pant that he was starting to get frustrated. 

For a moment you wondered if it was yet time to rip his erection from his pants and go to town on him, but you quickly decided that you hadn’t built enough tension for that. You wanted him to practically beg before you gave him any real pleasure.

With that your hand only continued to very lightly touch him while you leaned down again, your lips faintly touching the skin above his pants, trailing upwards his abdomen and leaving a crimson trail of lipstick. Your tongue accompanied it, ringing his bellybutton and leaving tiny, wet marks along the trail. A hand had to support you against the bed while you reached his collarbone, then his neck, then his jaw and finally to his lips, where you only teased him with several faint kisses. He, of course, tried to kiss back but was unable due to being tied down as well as you pulling away every time he pushed forward. 

He made a _tsk_ sound, but you didn’t let him have any more, pulling away with both your hands now at the buckle of his pants. You still had no intention of outright touching him, but this felt like a necessary step to eventually getting to that. 

Very slowly you unbuckled, pushing the flaps of the pants away to reveal the boxers that were another layer between you and his cock, the thin, stretchy fabric being enough for the hardened appendage to push through just a little more, making his tent a fair bit bigger. Your fingers were back to it, delicately poking and moving it around while a wicked grin rested over your smudged lips. Jack seemed to glare at you, but miraculously said nothing, trying to hide that air of discontentment he was feeling without doing too much of a good job of it. You didn’t even need to look at him to realize the fact, only making that smile of yours grow. 

This was where the real fun began. Taking the rod again you pushed apart the opening of the boxers, and his cock practically snapped forward. Jack looked like he wanted to make a sound, but you gave him a warning look as you fit the leather loop of your rod around his hardened flesh. That way you didn’t touch it and it couldn’t touch him, meaning it was impossible for him to get off unless he rubbed furiously against the leather or you stroked him with it.

And since he couldn’t move, and you had no intention of doing that, he was stuck this way. 

Impishly, you bit your lip and shook the rod, watching Jack’s appendage move this way and that. Looking up at the man whom was at the mercy of your hands he looked like he either wanted to kill someone or groan very loudly, but was unable to do both. It was surprising to you how he took your command to heart. He’d ceased talking, but you never actually said he couldn’t make any other noise, yet here he was, refraining from either. Perhaps he’d done this before and therefore knew what to do? It would make sense why he was so compliant in the first place. You had actually expected more resistance, but here he was, taking it all. 

But he wasn’t begging yet, and that’s what you really wanted him to do. Perhaps you needed to step up your game. 

With a small huff you removed the loop from his cock, only to bring it down and hit the hardened flesh with a loud _snap_. Jack’s entire body jerked, finally making a sound between pleasure and pain while you climbed off him and the bed entirely. 

Though he looked to be just about gasping for breath, it still didn’t feel like enough to go on. You didn’t intend to outright torture with this, you only wanted to tease to the point that it only seemed like torture, so your efforts were done entirely with the thought of him enjoying the whole thing. You just didn’t quite know how to go on from here as your planning wasn’t very sound. 

You stood for a moment, hands on your hips while Jack looked up at you in a manner that could have been considered as curiosity. After some thought you bobbed your head and leaned over to his legs where you untied each one from the bed posts. Then you reached over to his arms where you pulled at the binds around his wrists, only to reveal that they had been tied to the same rope, therefore pulling them against each other. With a tug on that rope, Jack was suddenly forced to get out of bed, stumbling a little while his arms were pulled above him, and he now stood with the rope tied to the ceiling. His clothes had mostly returned to normal, shirt falling back over his chest while his pants crumpled to the floor. 

“You can talk now, kitten.” You said as the loop of your rod came to his face and urged him to look back at you. 

Jack made a considering face. “I gotta say, you’re doing one heck of a job of—whatever the hell this is. Did you go to a class on bondage or something like that?”

You stepped a little closer to him, the loop of your rod gently tapping his cheek. “Something like that.” You echoed, just as you felt his erection press against your lower stomach.

He seemed to notice that, his eyes flickering down briefly before he looked back at you. In the meantime, you secured your rod under your arm as you worked to take off your right glove. Once you managed that, slipped something from your wrist. It was a thin band, like a ring that contracted into itself once you took it off. Lowering your arm, you pushed Jack’s cock up from your stomach and let the ring slip over it, where it slid halfway down the shaft and tightened. 

Jack jerked faintly at the feeling while your hand came to your corset to retrieve a small black device from the space between the leather and your breast. Jack’s brow lifted while you presented the device and grinned. With a tap, the ring around his cock began to vibrate, and the man restrained before you nearly doubled over as his hardened appendage visibly moved in tandem to the sensations of the ring. 

“Goddammit… fuck—what the hell are you trying to—to pull here?” He said between gritted teeth, his breathing quickly becoming labored. 

You only smirked at him, your ungloved hand reaching up his shirt to teasingly scrape his chest with your nails. “You’re just going to have to keep guessing, cupcake.” You drawled, completely removing yourself from him and sitting down on the bed, lifting a leg so the tip of your boot pressed circles around the part of his boxers where his balls remained hidden. 

You leaned back against your arms, legs crossed while you toed the other part of his sensitive organ and watched him squirm. You enjoyed that look he was giving, a helpless, angry gaze. He was at your mercy and you never felt more powerful. 

“You’re treading…—in dangerous waters now, p-pumpkin.” Jack warned, though his voice was struggling to say anything as he was too focused on trying to derive pleasure from the vibrating ring. 

“Now? You mean I wasn’t before?” You asked with a pouted look, pushing between his legs a little harder. 

He only continued to struggle, shuddering while he tipped his head and pinched his eyes closed. “If you d-don’t get me what I—fuck—what I want, you’re gonna p-…pay for it later.” 

“Oh?” You said, you’re eyes practically twinkling as you moved your foot to his twitching cock, observing his reaction while you dragged the underside of the boot against it. “And what exactly do you want, Jack?” 

He groaned between gritted and bared teeth before looking back down at you and practically bore a hole into your skull. “I w-want to—fucking _cum_ goddammit.” 

There it was, just what you were looking for. And at perfect timing, too. Through all that you were doing you were starting to feel rather aroused as well. A part of you really wanted to continue all this but another needed you to be taken care of. But you couldn’t do both…could you? 

Unless…

Removing your foot from him you scooched farther down the bed, setting your feet down onto the covers so Jack could get a full view between your legs, which wasn’t anything more than the sheer lace from the lingerie covering the apex of your thighs. With your gloved hand you trailed down the corset and to your heated core, pressing into the fabric while your eyes never left Jack, who seemed to be staring back at you in a frustrated longingness. 

With a finger you teased yourself. “You want to cum? But what if I don’t let you.” 

“Then my payback is gonna be—” 

Jack’s threat was put on pause as he groaned suddenly, you having upped the power of the vibrating ring. He struggled against the binds that kept his hands above his head, a desperate maneuver to free himself and finish off. But with your oddly expert rope skills even he couldn’t escape, only continuing to stand in one place while the ring wracked havoc upon him. When he stilled again he looked back up at you, a visible sweat making his skin glisten while you only continued to pleasure yourself through the lingerie. 

He looked like he wanted to commit murder, though you didn’t believe he would use anything other than his cock to make you pay for your deeds. 

You bit your lip as you touched yourself, eyes closing momentarily as you moaned faintly. You could feel his eyes on you, a longing gaze that promised nothing short of a ravenous encounter. It was working. All this was actually fucking working. He wanted you right then, wanted nothing more than to pin you down and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. And even you wanted it to happen, everything you’d brought to the table realizing how much you actually enjoyed being with Jack whether it was in this form or the next. 

Spriggon’s idea was working. 

Opening your eyes again you found Jack’s gaze, hungry and wanting while he shuddered at the sensations of the ring. He looked just like you hoped, which prompted you to remove your hand from your heated core and sit upright, lowering the ring’s vibration power. You had one last thing you wanted to do, and surely it would wrap this whole ordeal up in a bow.

Jack tensed a little less now, breathing a somewhat relieved breath and standing as if he hung from the rope on his wrists.

“If I take you down from there do you promise to be a good boy?” You asked, standing in from of him and taking his cock to remove the ring. 

When the ring slipped off you continued to hold him, your ungloved hand squeezing his erection, eliciting another groan from him, though a little less intense than before. 

He looked up at you, breathing heavily with the ever-unchanging expression of longingness and frustration over his face. He gulped, nodding almost furiously. You loved seeing him like this, seeing him so helpless. It was so unlike him. 

Almost made him seem normal. 

With a smile much less wicked than you’d before presented, you reached up to untie the ropes, letting his hands finally fall to his sides before you were behind him and tying them again behind his back. You were surprised he easily submitted to your efforts as you knew he was quite a bit stronger than you, but chalked it up as something he expected considering he seemed to be liking what you were doing.

“Oh what—what are you doing now?” 

“Don’t you even worry about it.”

Turning him around, you let him face you before pushing, having him fall into an upright sitting position at the edge of the bed. He stared up at you, hopeful, while you stood in front of him and began working off the laces of your corset. When that fell off and slipped to the floor your next move was to remove the bodysuit which was your lingerie. Thankfully, it wasn’t entirely attached to the rest of it with the stockings and sleeves, making it a whole lot easier to take off while still looking poised and somewhat sexy in front of Jack. 

With your extremities exposed there was nothing to tear the male’s gaze away from you, a lingering eye upon your breasts, down your abdomen and to that little area between your legs he loved so much. But when he leaned forward to taste your silky skin with his mouth you placed a finger against his forehead and pushed him back.

“Ah-ah-ah, cupcake. Look, but don't touch.”

He looked disapproving and disappointed, but you only gave him a promising smile as the same finger against his forehead pressed to urge him to fall to his back onto the bed. When he complied, you gingerly got to your knees, separated his legs, and leaned into the space between his thighs where your hands were met with the famous lengthy hardness of Handsome Jack. 

When skin touched skin you felt the tiny jerk of his knee, reacting deliciously to the contact with a hard exhale through his nose. You smiled at him. Despite this not exactly having been his cup of tea, he’d certainly been the good boy you asked him to be. He did quite deserve this.

The first thing you did was remove his dastardly shorts. They’d done enough being a barrier from before, but with no more need of teasing they no longer had any use. Hooking your fingers beneath the stretchy band you pulled them away, resulting in Jack’s cock springing upwards and bobbing like a buoy, which made you inexplicably smile. Once you managed to remove both the boxers and the pants pooled at his feet, it wasn’t long before you were back where you started, tucked between his legs with your hands on his rock-hard erection.

Lowering your head, you pressed the shaft against your cheek as if you were nuzzling a pet. In any other case it would have been weird, but with you having assumed the role that you did, it almost seemed necessary. Afterward you began to kiss it, trailing your red-stained lips from his base all the way to the tip, where your tongue became a presence and made acquaintance with the pink, fleshy head. Below you, Jack was doing his best not to squirm, his urges telling him to grab your hair and shove his entire length down your throat. But with his hands bound behind him, the only thing he could do was merely wish for the act while he held his head up and watched you do your work. 

You wanted to smile maliciously at him but were too preoccupied with his little brother to do anything but continue. Your tongue lapped up at a few beads of precum, visibly swallowing each drop before you gave the entire head an open-mouthed kiss. Beneath you, your hand had taken to another feat, holding his balls and gently fondling each one with gentle squeezes. Jack seemed to be loving it, but you already knew that. Two years spent in bed with him taught you a great many things about the things he liked. 

Finally, after all that teasing, you were ready. With a breath you pushed forward, curling your lips around your teeth to maximize comfort and relaxing your throat to utilize depth. Jack groaned when you got most of him inside you, half a fist’s length left to go but that was already too much for you, prompting you to use your hand as an extension of your mouth. With that you began to bob, slowly at first, sucking in your cheeks and flattening your tongue to give him the ultimate experience. It wasn’t long before you began to pick up your pace, knowing that you didn’t have the luxury of taking your time since you had spent up most of Jack’s ticking bomb with all the teasing from earlier. Despite having just started this part of the show you knew he was close, his vocal addressing of pleasure being the proclamation of the fact if nothing else.

Jack shifted and groaned and struggled beneath, so ready to find release and wanting nothing more than to force it in you. But you held the reigns here, and you just weren’t ready to let him take control again. At least, not yet.

With a suck here and a deeper bob there, you were seconds away. As soon as Jack’s voice reached a peak that you were pretty sure you’d never heard it reach before (probably a result of all the teasing, amounting to some intense sexual tension that made the experience more enjoyable for him), you squeezed as hard as you were able and pulled away, letting go of his cock with an obscene pop and stroking him very hard and fast. 

Not a moment later he came. With a wild jerk of his hips and a final, explosive grunt, his length twitched, shooting thick, white liquid straight up into the air. 

You watched the show as if a fountain exhibit, not minding that some had landed on your face and hair as a result of the angle, amazed at how far he was able to make it go. 

With a few more spurts, the last ropes of cum being significantly less lengthy as the first ones, Jack was all finished. He lay on the bed with his head facing the ceiling, chest rising and falling in a receding pant and several dry swallows. 

“Holy—fucking shit.” He said, as if in a daze. “That was… fucking amazing.” 

A smile stretched over your lips as you finally let go of his cock, letting the softening appendage fall against his stomach. 

Your work here was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the end of the story. I know it says 3/4 chapters done but I want to leave a space open for a bonus chapter for later, where they get it on classic styled. Sort of. So expect that in the near future.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking around with me on this little pet project! I know it's a little slow-going(even if it _is_ only three chapters), but I hope you all enjoyed it for what it was. This update in particular took me so long to do because you won't _believe_ how much(not to mention what type of) research I did for this sort of thing. Seriously, it's insane.
> 
> But anyways, this might actually be one of the last small Handsome Jack/Borderlands fic that I'm going to do for a while. I want to move onto other universes with other characters, so I hope you don't expect anything beyond the bonus chapter and possibly Necessary evil. I also hope you stay tuned for some possible variety, because I am planning some things oh yes indeedy.
> 
> Thanks guys, ciao!

**Author's Note:**

> I know the tags say smut but that will only come in the last chapter, so hold up


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